


Paper Doll

by Pickleboy



Category: The Arcana (Visual Novel)
Genre: As canon as a fanfiction can be, Eventual Smut, Fluff, Goat Bastard, Let Muriel Say Fuck, M/M, Masturbation, Muriel doesn't like feelings, Pining, Slow Burn, Smut, fantasized smut
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-05
Updated: 2020-10-21
Packaged: 2021-03-03 20:07:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 15,698
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24551317
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pickleboy/pseuds/Pickleboy
Summary: After Muriel finds a stranger badly injured in the middle of the woods and begrudgingly takes him in, he starts thinking things - new things that confuse and alarm him.
Relationships: Apprentice & Muriel (The Arcana), Apprentice/Muriel (The Arcana), Muriel (The Arcana)/Original Character(s), Muriel (The Arcana)/Original Male Character(s)
Comments: 31
Kudos: 94





	1. Stick in the Mud

It was mid-morning when he heard it; he had just stepped outside to chop up fresh firewood to get him through the night. A pitiful wail echoed off the morning dew and tree trunks. He looked up from his doorstep out into the forest. Time stood still for a second. Even the birds were silent. And he noticed. 

_ The birds are quiet. There's something wrong in these woods.  _

His hand instinctively moved to his axe, leaning against the front of his house. Was the disgraced Count out there that morning, crying out pathetically? The man wasn't usually spooked, but his jaw twitched when he heard it again, louder. It didn't sound like it had moved, which was generally a good sign when it came to moans in the woods. He slowly straightened his back, walking as quietly as his massive frame would allow down the path from his door into the woods proper. It was ahead, sharply left. 

A bundle of herbs and twigs shivered at his passing, brushing his shoulder.  _The wards and charms all seem to be powerful enough, like nothing magical was here. That must be a real animal._ He didn't much like the idea of killing an innocent being, but he didn't really love the idea of some poor creature out there suffering and maybe even eaten alive? Was it trapped? Axe in hand, he headed past his bush fence and into the forest. The wails came clearer, exhausted, hopeless moans. Not in words that he could tell, just calls into the sunlit air. A snuffling at his side, a dark shaggy wolf at his right.

"Inanna. Can you run up ahead for me?" A yip bubbled in her throat, coming out as an affirmative "hrf." The wolf took off up ahead, disappearing into the underbrush and out of sight.  _ Sounds close now.  _ The groaning was now sobs, like something too wounded to fight, something... afraid. Growls shook the woods, fading to whimpers and a whine as what sounded like multiple animals turned tail and ran. Inanna's bark up ahead lead the man out into a clearing just below a cliff. Inanna sniffled, skirting around a sinking muddy area, turning to him. She huffed, then pointed her head at something in the mud. Many pawprints dotted the ground.  _Wolves. Threatening something, something like dinner. A very feisty dinner._

Looking up to address the cause of the noise, he found himself caught in two strikingly grey eyes. A final whimper slipped out of the... the something. It was some creature splayed out on the mud, covered in slick muddy fur. It held itself up by its arms, while its right leg jutted back into even muddier terrain. The ankle of the foot almost entirely buried in mud was bent at a very offputting angle. Something rippled under the fur. The wall of mud soaked fur made way for a small, slender hand, reaching from its fur cloak to the man.  _ It's... a person. Stuck in the mud. Fuck.  _ Right as the mud-person lost consciousness, the man grabbed them by the wrist, yanking them up into his arms. Uncomfortably close, even though they lay limp in his arm, head lolling. He started, flinching back for a second. Inanna nudged his leg, to which he spoke. 

"Should I help them, Inanna? I really don't want anyone at home. They'll be fine on their own..." The small person was now held in both arms, their head rolling back into his shoulder, breath hot on his neck. He started walking back to the hut, groaning.

"Of course I have to," he grunted down at the wolf. This was not a very appealing development.


	2. Awaken

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Apprentice, Brayden, finally meets his rescuer, and things get... complicated.

Brayden woke up curled up in a whorl of furs in front of a crackling fire.  _ So soft... So warm. _ His eyes stayed closed for a few seconds before he remembered that he didn't fall asleep there. A shock of pain rippled up his leg from the ankle. He jerked awake with a gasp, sitting bolt upright. His eyes shot around the cramped hut. No one was home, but the fire had plenty of life in it; it must have been lit recently. Hanging from the center of the mantle was a small pouch filled with spices and herbs, a protective charm. The fire heated it up, amplifying the smell of myrrh all around Brayden. Escape only looked possible through the front door and window, which seemed a shame. This was how he would die, then. In a mysterious little hut in the middle of the forest, alone. That was about the time he realized he was out of his clothes and fastenings, instead draped in a giant tunic. _Gods, I must look like a pixie in this,_ he thought, noting how dramatically the collar hung from his neck and shoulders.

The door swung open, Inanna bounding inside and startling at the very awake stranger in the hut. Behind his shaggy black hair, the man rolled his eyes. _Great. A person. In my hut,_ he thought bitterly. Brayden scrambled to his feet, grabbing his closest weapon - in this case, a dull butter knife from the nearby table - and thrusting it in front of him. 

"Who are you!?" he shrieked, voice squeaking out in reaction to the pain that pushed all breath from him. Flames licking from his ankle to his knee, needles and knives and all sorts of torture implements. His weight wavered over to his left leg as he shook, staring the stranger down. The man ducked under the door frame, straightening to nearly seven feet tall. His eyelids hung over his eyes as he looked down on the person threatening him. 

"You're the one in my house. You first." he grunted out, sweeping his cloak off and onto a hook in the wall by the door. That was a fair point.

"I... I'm Brayden," the cowering person stuttered, eyes locked to the ground, knife still absentmindedly held in front of him. The man grabbed the knife and returned it to the table.

"Don't touch that. Don't touch anything. And sit back down, your ankle's broken, for fuck's sake," It was like each word was being forced out of him. His eyes were also on the ground, under the table where Inanna was stalking around the stools. He sighed and resigned himself to social interaction. "You were out in the woods, stuck in the mud. You were about to get yourself eaten by wolves. But now you aren't." A long pause, then much softer "Once you can at least limp, you get out and go away." The man reached past Brayden, snatching the sachet of myrrh and draping the drawstring loosely around Brayden's neck.  "Here," he grumbled, "so you don't forget. That'll make things much less annoying." With that he turned and walked away.

Brayden blinked. The way the silence hung thick in the air made it clear that was all the talking the man wanted to do for a while. So he sat himself right back down into the furs. He opened his mouth, he didn't know this man's name, but a dark flash of green from eyes across the room was enough warning he needed to close his mouth again. No questions were about to be answered. He would try anyways. Brayden hated the way the silence burrowed into his ears. 

"Thank you. For, uh, for rescuing me from the wolves. I don't remember much right before I passed out, but I'm pretty sure I was gonna be dinner." Brayden kept his eyes strictly on the fire, avoiding the annoyed stare of the hulking figure sitting on the bed, fiddling with some sticks and twine. He felt out with his magic, as the protective charm started taking shape. _Ah. This would explain the little bundles around the deep forest._

He pulled his magic back, shyly. There was no way this man could have even known he was reaching out, but it still felt prying. Like he has sauntered up, grabbed the ward from his giant fingers, and held it under a magnifying glass. Imposing. This wasn't Brayden's house to look around.

An irritated grunt from the bed served as a welcome. Brayden shakily began laying back down onto the furs.

"You've got Asra's tarot deck in your pocket. Why do you have it."

The low question came out more like a statement. This man knew Asra? He seemed familiar. The scent of myrrh reminded Brayden of a stranger, ducking away into the alley. He had seen this man before, he had... But where?

"I, um, I'm his apprentice. He gave it to me before he left, the other day."

Wood creaked as weight was shifted on the bed.

"Oh, right. That's you." Had they met? Brayden didn't think so, but his memories were all garbled up from three years ago and before. He had woken up to Asra's face. They'd lived together for years, even sharing a bed in the quaint apartment above their shop. Asra had never mentioned a man like this before. Every second seemed to swirl with new questions, and Brayden wasn't getting any answers.

"Muriel."

Brayden was pulled back to the present. "Huh?"

A pointed sigh. Another creak of the bed.

"My name. It's Muriel." The flame in the fireplace popped loudly, a spark floating up into the chimney flue. "I, um... I guess if you're a friend of Asra's, you're-" his voice grew strained "-not, um, terrible. But you're still leaving the second you can move yourself." 

Brayden slowly peered over his shoulder, careful to move as little as possible to observe Muriel out of the very edges of his peripheral. He was still huddled over on his bed, twine twisting between his fingers.

"Where are my clothes?" The question was asked nonchalantly, but that didn't stop Muriel from jerking his back straight up and flushing red in the cheeks. His ears burned with discomfort.

"They were all muddy. I washed them." Another pause. "...because I didn't want mud on my floors." Brayden nodded slowly to himself, before softly offering up his next question.

"And why aren't I muddy?" He heard the resounding plink as the charm was dropped. Muriel sucked in a quick breath through his teeth and stooped lower in his seat. 

"I bathed you."

Pause. Brayden asked quietly and sadly, almost to himself, "You didn't..."

"No." Muriel's head nearly smacked into a root as he stood up suddenly, hands in fists at his side. "Only the scum of the earth would do anything like that." His voice was a low angry growl, but it didn't seem defensive at all, to Brayden's surprise. He smiled weakly, deciding to believe him. Muriel shifted his weight behind the small figure draped in his softest shirt, unsure of whether to sit down awkwardly or move somewhere else. 

His mind was made up for him when an ungodly growl roared in his belly. Brayden could hear Muriel grabbing plates, silverware, and cups from where he assumed the kitchen was. The next thing he knew, the giant man was kneeling next to him, gently setting a rack of ribs onto a grate above the fire. Was this man... feeding him? Sure, he hadn't been the most welcoming host, but judging by the state of the hut, the meat must have been a treat, a luxury. Muriel ducked out of the door with two cups, returning moments later with two steins of water sloshing in his hands. He sat one down by the shivering Brayden, vanishing from his side before the other could even look at him.

"It's from the well. Drink it."

Brayden lifted the cup to his lips gingerly and took a sip. _Phew, fresh water._ It was cold, and almost sweet on his tongue. Outside was a deep blue, not yet the dead of night, but there was definitely no longer daylight. Inanna took a cautious step towards the guest, snuffling at his side. Brayden looked over at her. The wolf didn't stop her inspection as her owner sat back down on the bed, picking up the charm from the floor and returning to work. She sharply turned back to Muriel after a particularly close sniff, letting out a "borf" and sitting back on her haunches. 

"...I don't care, Inanna." 

Wait, could he understand her? Brayden knew about magicians being able to communicate with their familiars, though he'd never done it personally. Was this wolf a familiar? Muriel definitely didn't seem like the full-on magician type. Across the room, he lifted his shaggy head to look at the figure huddled in his old tunic.

"You. Go back to sleep. I don't want you to do something stupid while the meat cooks." A calloused finger was pointed at Brayden from across the hut. He couldn't help but crack a smile, much as he fought it.

"Who says I'm going to do something stupid? Maybe I want to stay by the fire," Brayden giggled out. "Maybe I'm the tall, dark, and handsome type myself, just in a smaller model." His eyes glittered as he reached up and ruffled his shaggy blue hair, pulling it forward over his face. "Oh look at me, the mysterious mountain man! I eat what I kill, and speak to no one!" Brayden tried to set his face in the best comically exaggerated scowl as he could. Muriel's stare stayed firm, though he turned a bit pink in the ears. _ Tall, dark, and... Handsome? Did he just call me handsome?  _

Under that glare, Brayden crumbled again, dropping the act and sheepishly turning back to the fire. "...I'm sorry, I say dumb stuff when I get nervous." 

Muriel grunted out something unreadable, whether he was offended or annoyed wasn't clear. The two men sat in silence for what felt like ages as flames popped and crackled loudly under the rack of ribs.

Finally, Muriel stood and made his way through the thick air; the hut was filled with delicious hot steam. Taking a knee by the fireplace, he still towered over Brayden, who was sitting on his left foot to prop himself up more. _There's at least a foot and a half difference, for sure,_ Brayden thought, cautiously looking Muriel up and down _. This guy could slap my head clean off my body._

The giant reached into the fireplace with a bare hand, grabbing the now brown and sizzling rack off of the grate. He righted himself again and walked over to the kitchen table. 

"I can heal your hand, if you need," Brayden broke the silence shyly. "That had to have hurt. I could see that meat sizzling."

From behind him, "Nope. I'm fine."

Muriel shuffled back over, handing Brayden a plate of ribs. This time, Brayden noticed, he actually handed it to him directly, instead of placing it on the floor like he had with the water earlier. 

"Venison?" Brayden guessed, after lifting the still-hot food to his mouth and taking a greedy bite.

"Yeah."

"So I wasn't too far off earlier, huh? You eat what you kill?" 

Muriel let out something between a sigh, a scoff, and a groan, "It was injured when I got to it. It was too far gone to heal," he took a giant bite, speaking through chews, "I don't like hunting if I can avoid it." Brayden nodded, wheels turning slowly in his head.

He looked down at his broken ankle.

"So are you gonna eat me, then?"

Muriel's eyes shot open, and he visibly choked on his mouthful of food. He violently coughed into his elbow, snatching his water and finished with a long sip. Brayden had jerked towards him, hands out, about to rush to his aid, when he stopped coughing. 

"No," he grumbled as Brayden settled back down, "Don't be stupid." He stared daggers at his guest, a cue to look anywhere but at him as he flushed a dark red. His elbows found their way back to his knees, hunching back down. In his heavy trousers, his cock twitched at the suggestion.  _ Great, fantastic _ _, he thought._ Brayden was looking away now, but Muriel could still see how the fire and the outside moonlight glowed on his skin. His thin neck, delicate collarbone, so small... He shook his head, trying to will away the steadily growing issue in his lap. Brayden leaned forward to poke at the embers of the fast-dying fire on his hands and knees, a crude poker in his tiny right fist. Muriel continued chewing out of sight, as he let out a gentle, longing sigh through his nose. The way he bent forward, the way Muriel's shirt rode up on his soft thighs, how his skin reflected the light. A sharp tingling feeling shot down his spine, directly down, down, to...  _ No _ . After making sure that Brayden had his gaze strictly on the fire he was tending, he allowed himself to straighten up, looking down shyly into his crotch. He was mostly hard, his trousers too tight, painful against his... problem. The entire length buzzed with electricity, nerves alight. Could he readjust while Brayden was looking away without drawing his eyes over to him? His eyes were squinted and he was grimacing in obvious discomfort, a dead giveaway should he-

"You look pale, are you okay?" Muriel's head shot up so fast a vertebrae in his neck cracked loudly. Brayden was up, leaning against the kitchen table, too close, too close , he thought. The apprentice swallowed visibly, looking Muriel dead in the eyes. "You looked like you were going to be sick... I could try and get you more water in case you do..."

Muriel desperately scanned his eyes and face. His wide eyes were fixed on Muriel's face, which had gone pink again. _He isn't blushing_ , thought Muriel _, he doesn't know yet... And he won't know._ Placing his plate on his lap, he straightened. 

"I'm fine. Go sit back down." His eyes returned to the ground somewhere around Brayden's feet. The flush in his cheeks helped a little, blood rushing back to his face. Instead of returning to the fire, which was visibly beyond saving, Brayden pulled out a chair from the table and sat down. The impact of his butt on the stool pushed a little noise from his closed mouth, something between a huff and a peep. Muriel's walls were still in place, keeping the apprentice out, but he had caught him for a second, unfocused, distracted. Face pale and sweaty, eyes on his food... Brayden had found a crack in the armor, a loose brick. He smiled to himself nonetheless, eyes still on Muriel's scarred face.

_ Stop looking, stop fucking looking at me! _ The voice screamed in Muriel's head, frantic and desperate. But he held his tongue; he wasn't that defensive nor loud, that was his old boss. He cleared his throat, coming up with an alternative.

"If you can limp, you can leave, remember?" he mumbled, looking at Brayden's very injured ankle.  _ I don't want you to leave , _ he kept to himself,  _ not yet . I hate how much I enjoy seeing another person. _ Muriel was alone, isolated deep in the woods from everyone else. The only person he ever saw was Asra, once every so often to help him keep away the bitter ghost of the former Count. One visitor at a time was enough. _Maybe just enough_. Brayden wasn't prying, he sat in place without complaint, and Inanna liked him enough, it seemed. It was refreshing.  _ And he's quite the sight for sore eyes,  _ murmured his brain. _ No, stop, shut up. He's just another person. And people are violent and evil and awful _ _,_ he retorted in his head. But he couldn't deny that despite some unnecessary comments and questions, the apprentice, now swinging his feet on the stool at the table, had been... alright. He took a deep breath, "And I don't exactly like finding the bodies of wolf food anywhere near my house."

Brayden blinked slowly. He had so much to say, so much to ask, but he respected his host and bit his tongue.

"Okay. Thanks," was all he allowed out. Muriel hummed a low note in return, a noise that seemed like as close to "you're welcome" as Brayden would ever get out of him. Brayden suspected he was privileged to coax that much out of him, as Asra's magic wavered around his broad huddled body. _Benefits of knowing that mysterious magician_ , he supposed. 

Muriel was playing with his remaining food, too embarrassed to keep anything down. The situation no longer had a clear next step, what he should do or say. He started to lift himself to grab the other plate, but the tightness that was still laying in his lap stopped him. _ Oh yeah, that _ _,_ he reminded himself. He hunched over further, forearm not very subtly draped across his hips, handing his mostly empty plate to Brayden.

"Put them in that bucket. You can get over to it easily enough." A small hand snatched the plate out of his own enormous fingers, stacking the plates and tossing them into the pail of cold water next to the table. They looked like they were going to land about a foot short, but suddenly the steel slowed down, drifting over to the basin and landing as if they were floating through a current. He furrowed his brow, but when he looked back to Brayden, it made sense.

"You seriously use your magic for stuff like that?" Muriel asked, condescendingly. Brayden became pink at the ears, lowering his pointer finger from where he stealthily had it pointed on the table under the elbow he had been leaning on.

"Um... Yeah, yeah sometimes," he answered sheepishly, looking back down at his swinging feet, both easily half a foot off the dirt floor. Muriel huffed and rolled his eyes, bringing a hand up to rub at his temple. 

"Fire's dead. That means it's time to sleep," he mumbled, head hanging. Inanna rose from her place by the fireplace, leaping up behind her master on the bed. Before Brayden could even think, Muriel jabbed his thumb to the pile of furs.

"You sleep over there. Don't try anything funny while I sleep or I'll crack you in half like a twig," he mumbled, tiredness lowering his words to a grumble. Instead of the horror he expected to be painted on Brayden's face, he looked up into a smug chuckle.

"I'd like to see you try. If you were gonna, you would have when I was out cold."  _When I was bathing you_ ,  Muriel thought to himself. _ When you were so weak and vulnerable, like a glass figurine in my arms.. _ _._ He shook away those thoughts as he laid down, listening to Brayden hobble back over to his spot on the floor. A new wave of arousal trickled down his body as he turned to the wall under the covers. His erection pressed flush against his pants, but this time he would be able to do something about it. After listening to Brayden lay down in the furs and start to snore ever so softly, he untied his waistband and took his cock out into his palm. The pain left, and all he felt was pulsing need as he felt the heat and weight in his hands. His fingers slowly, unconsciously started to curl around himself, his palm twitching. Oh that felt good, that felt very good.

It was nowhere near close to his first time doing this. While Inanna was out hunting alone - it felt wrong with her around - he would relieve himself, splayed out on his threadbare bed, limbs draped haphazardly over the frame. He never really imagined much, he didn't even know what kind of person he would find attractive enough to fuck. Bodies in his memory were hazy, warped and garbled. Nothing clear stood out. The kids by the docks would talk about it growing up, he knew what he was longing for was a person's...well, private parts. Asra had sighed at them and their rather inaccurate information, and, having seen the shy curiosity in Muriel's eyes, had quietly told him the basics. You thrust into something for a while, and then you feel really good. Asra was a sneaky but intelligent child, he had probably caught a couple through a window while trying to break in to steal something to eat and figured out the situation. So Muriel took his word for it. As he grew up, however, he was never in public long enough to people watch, and then he was enslaved into the colosseum when he was old enough...

He shivered, trying to push his past out of his mind as he fully closed his fist around his erection. Point was, he was never around people enough to know what he wanted. And now here was this tiny, soft little thing, sleeping not even 10 feet away...

His collar and chain made a slow clinking as he brought himself to his elbows, turning his body to look at Brayden. The apprentice was still snoring quietly, curled up with their body wrapped around a bunched up pelt in their arms. He sighed. He couldn't do it here, so close to him. Awkwardly, he collected the chain link into one giant hand and slowly turned outward. He swung his feet down onto the floor, standing up with the chain thankfully silent in his palm. He tucked his cock into his waistband with his other hand, just in case, and quietly stalked out the door.

Once he was out in the breezy night air, he let go of a breath he hadn't noticed he'd been holding. His hand uncurled, letting the chain come loose and drop down against his broad, scarred chest. The chopping block groaned as he set his body down onto it, but stayed in place. His cock throbbed particularly hard, reminding him to free it from his trousers. Now he was safe to do as he pleased. Long, muscular legs kicked out in front of him, he pulled himself out under the cool glow of the moonlight. Now he could get a proper look at what that damn apprentice had done to him. He was massive, as to be expected, looking impressive even in his giant mitts. He had a gentle left curve, and the head was an angry berry red. A drop of precum pulsed out of the tip as he inspected, shining brightly in the starlight. So even his cock matched how he felt - hungry, desperate, furious... The man spat into his hand and started to slowly work himself in his fist. Laid back on his other arm, head back, hair flowing down his neck - if anyone saw him he would look godly in the white moonlight. His cowl was discarded, as well as his pants, it felt wrong to be anything but naked in such an erotic moment. Sparing a glance down, he imagined his guest's hands wrapped around his cock in his stead. _Gods, he could probably use both hands and have room to spare..._

"A-ah!" he groaned into the still air. It was like an electric current had shot down his body, spasming into his cock. Teeth gritted, he focused back onto the apprentice, what he could do to him... Such a small body in his hands, his arms over Muriel's neck while Muriel's fingers pressed bruises into his hips...

No. Muriel stopped himself with a scoff and a shake of the head. Even out of passion, he was not under any circumstances going to harm another soul. He knew what he could do, Count Lucio had pulled that power out of him in the ring. The Scourge of the South, they had called him. Palace executioner. Undefeated. The town whooped and cheered for him... though he wanted nothing more than to leave and never see another person again. He would never use these bloodstained hands for injuring another human again. Never. Anyone close to Asra especially. He hadn't let it slip, but Asra talked about Brayden often. He knew who they were after a proper wash up, Asra's cards in his pants pocket. So this was him, then, huh.

Precum was dripping down into his hands now, palms slick against his cock. A lewd, wet noise echoed in Muriel's front yard, intermingled with his hot breath and almost pleading groans. _Be gentle with him then... Be... kind_. The apprentice's body wormed its way back into his mind, sweaty underneath his massive frame, crying out. Moaning loudly, begging him to fuck him, telling him he loved him-

With a muted roar into his other hand pressed against his mouth, he ejaculated suddenly. It landed well past his outstretched legs and onto the grass. White-hot spurts, again and again, cum forming thick ropes as it splattered onto the ground. Muriel's eyes watered as he started to come down from his impressive orgasm, still panting into his hand. Had it really been that long since he'd last done it? He felt almost empty in his lower stomach, like he'd just had his energy sucked out of him. 

He stood up, stepping back into his clothes and returning his cock to his pants. It was about then that he came back to his senses. A light breeze grazed his right palm, the already drying mixture of precum, saliva, and semen on his hand growing cool. _Disgusting_ , he thought, walking shakily over to the well beside his house. The bucket sloshed with fresh water as he pulled it up to rinse his hand off. 

"Oh! There you are!"

Muriel spun around violently, fear and shame overtaking any hostility he had in him. Brayden was hopping, barefoot, around the corner, leaning on the side of the house for support. Muriel quickly brought a scowl to his face, replacing his wide eyes.

"What are you doing out here? I told you to stay put unless you want to be thrown out." The words came out just a touch too threateningly, but Brayden still didn't look too afraid. 

"Oh, uh, I'm sorry," the apprentice whispered, shrinking back into himself a bit, "I woke up a bit thirsty, and you weren't in your bed when I tried to ask..." A thin arm lifted a heavy stein, waving it up for proof. He was still cowering, but his eyes lit up a bit. "But I suppose you beat me there, didn't you?" Muriel was still eying him suspiciously as he scrubbed his hands in the half-full bucket. Brayden hopped over, leaning on the wall of the well right next to his host. As he started reaching over, Muriel realized what he was going to do.

"W-wait, you shouldn't-" 

But it was too late, he had already scooped up some of the dirty water into the cup and started slurping at it, too quickly to be stopped. Muriel immediately turned bright red, waiting for him to say something, anything at all; what all he had seen, the taste of the water, how disgusting Muriel was, how horrified he was...

"Hmmm, tastes a little salty this time around," Brayden said from behind his stein, "And almost... Sour?" Muriel cringed, this was it, he was about to be found out.

"Eh, it's not too bad." 

"What?!" He looked down, at the apprentice holding out their stein for some more water. He had drained it in three long gulps. Muriel wanted to make an excuse, to explain, but nothing would work now that Brayden had actually drank the water. An animal fell down and died? That was the only other option, but he didn't need his guest vomiting. In his focus, he almost missed the apprentice going in to scoop up more.

"No!" Muriel shouted, a bit too loudly. He jerked the remaining water away faster than he knew he was capable of moving.

"I mean... I'll throw it out." He threw the rest of the bucket into the dirt, dropping it back down quickly into the well. "There, try again." He turned and marched off towards the door, kicking dirt over any suspicious gleaming wet patches he saw along the way. Brayden looked after him, his loaner shirt fluttering around his knees in another summer night breeze. The door slammed shut suddenly and loudly, making him jump. _Wonder what his issue is,_ he thought, _I can't pin him down at all. A whole night and I don't know a damn thing about him._ Hobbling away from the well and trailing against the stone of the hut, Brayden was startled again by a frustrated yell from inside, a yell he suspected he wasn't meant to hear. As he passed by the front window he looked in to see Muriel once again hunched over on his bed, head in his hands, elbows on his knees. _Why's he so frustrated?_ Brayden wondered, feeling a pang of guilt. _Did I do something wrong? Did I offend him?_

Upon Brayden's return to the dark hut, Muriel stood bolt upright, glaring down at him. His eyes flashed green again, reflecting the small orb of light in Brayden's other hand that he had summoned. 

"Get back to bed," came a low order from far above his head. Brayden nodded sadly, hopping across the floor to the furs. Muriel followed him with his eyes, and watched as he came down onto his good ankle funny. The light sputtered out, and Brayden screamed as he collapsed to his knees and elbows. Without thinking, Muriel rushed over in two long strides, kneeling down by him.

"Are you alright?" he asked gruffly, fixing his eyes on Brayden's. Brayden nodded.

"I think I just twisted it. It should be fine by tomorrow. This other one," he gestured to the ugly swollen mess that was his other foot, "is definitely out of commission for a while. Broken, I think."

A while? What was a while? How long did Muriel have to care for this pathetic little fawn of a man? He fixed a scowl back onto his face, and called behind him. 

"Inanna. Go into town and find a doctor tomorrow," an unreadable look washed over his face, "I'm not dealing with... this, any longer than I have to." Brayden deflated a bit, crawling on all fours back to his spot. The way he crawled sadly, the tiny sniffle he let out, the tears quietly falling from those big, blue eyes... It was too much for Muriel to take. Sighing to himself, he placed a hand on the man's shoulder to stop him. 

"No, no... You sleep in my bed tonight. I'll take the floor." Brayden looked over at Muriel, who snapped his gaze back to the floor. "Both your feet are useless. Sleeping on the floor is only gonna make things worse." 

Brayden nodded slowly as he thought, but then refused.

"No," he said softly, "we should share the bed." Muriel's heart skipped a beat as the apprentice continued, "Sleeping on the floor is bad for your back, and you already hunch forward. You're going to be in a lot of pain." Their eyes met again, and the larger man's face burned hot. Brayden eased the tension with a warm smile. "You aren't scared of me, are you? I don't bite."

_Maybe I'd like you to,_ thought Muriel, shuddering a bit as he pictured the apprentice's teeth closed around the side of his neck.  _ No, no, shut the fuck up before you get horny again. _ A familiar stir in his pants reminded him to keep his thoughts in line. 

"No, and stop talking before I-" But it was already too late. The apprentice had both arms latched around his neck, pulling Muriel close as he shifted his weight onto his shoulders. _Too close, tooooo close,_ screeched his mind as Brayden's smiling face loomed just inches away. "...kick... you out..." he stuttered out, weakly. Sweet breath filled his nostrils, hands delicately clasped together against the back of his neck. Brayden's full weight was on his shoulders now, but in his hazy consciousness it was like nothing at all. His clumsy fingers fumbled around awkwardly, it was just so quiet... Too quiet even for his tastes. He had to do something, surely, but what? 

Brayden lifted himself up higher, dangling from Muriel's shoulder like a monkey from a branch. The movement pushed his head into Muriel's shoulder, and their chests met. Muriel's heart beat angrily in his chest, hard enough for Brayden to feel. His neck was pink with blush, scorching against Brayden's cheek. He brought his lips to Muriel's ear, ripping a hearty shiver from the man's chest, shaking his whole body.

"Please, I can't bear to see you on the floor like an animal," he whispered into his ear. The words weren't explicit, and weren't said seductively, but it wouldn't have made a difference if he had begged Muriel to rut him into the floor. His cock twinged again, the intimacy getting to him too easily.

"Fine." It was low, in his chest, but Muriel spoke all the same. He swept an arm under Brayden's scraped knees, hoisting the apprentice into his arms. As he stood up, he made extra care to where the boy's body touched his. By the time he laid Brayden on the very edge of his bed against Inanna, he was snoring softly again, eyes closed tightly. _So peaceful,_ Muriel thought. _Finally not in pain anymore_. Before he could stop himself, he ran his fingers softly through the shaggy blue hair that peeked out from under his blanket. _What am I doing_ , his brain wondered. He sat down on the bed, resigning himself to another sleepless night.


	3. Covet

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Muriel starts to warm up to his guest, despite their contrasting personalities. Maybe he'll let them stay for more eggs.

Brayden opened his eyes early the next morning, looking directly into the sun through the window. This earned him a snort from the monstrous man in the corner, whittling quietly away at a stick still wet with wolf drool. As soon as Brayden looked over at him, he stopped and returned to his normal scowl. 

"Wh-who are-" Brayden began, shaking furiously in the strange bed. Muriel hopped to his feet, strode over, and grabbed the bag of spices on his neck. He knelt as he lifted it to Brayden's panicked face, waiting unusually patiently. As soon as the earthy scent of myrrh hit his nostrils, Brayden relaxed. "Gods, I'm sorry, I just..." He fumbled with his phrasing as Muriel stayed in front of him on one knee, staring him down wordlessly.

"S'fine," murmured Muriel, taking the time to fully look at how the apprentice looked, awake, in the full sunlight. He had freckles dotting his nose and cheeks that Muriel hadn't noticed before. Somehow, Muriel didn't feel embarrassed or even nervous. Must be the exhaustion, he figured. His dark gaze slowly traveled across Brayden's face, drinking in his plush lips, soft jawline, his eyes that glittered cooly as a quiet forest brook. His skin was tan, almost tanner than Muriel's own, and he had a small scar that split the tail of his left eyebrow. Having done his studying while the other wriggled nervously and blushed, he sighed and leaned back. Excuse time.

"Other than your ankles, you look fine," mumbled Muriel, feigning the tone a doctor might use at a checkup, "you'll be back to normal soon enough."

Brayden giggled. "Oh, I look fine?" Muriel sucked in a breath through his nose, realizing what exactly he had said.

"Uh, no. Well, yeah, like, you aren't injured otherwise, but you-" 

Brayden cut him off with a wave of his hand. "I'm giving you shit, Muriel. I know what you meant."

"Oh. Don't do that," Muriel grunted, mildly upset that he'd taken the bait. As he stood up and opened the door to grab fresh firewood, Brayden piped up again, looking like a child in Muriel's giant bed frame.

"What's this about?"

Muriel turned to see him holding the pouch of myrrh in his hand, pulling it away from him to get a better look. 

"So you won't forget me."

Brayden flushed a bit, the tips of his ears burning pink. _To remember him by? Was this a token of sorts?_ He curled his slim fingers around the sachet, holding it closer. Muriel noticed him completely misunderstanding and cleared his throat to explain.

"A friend put a spell on me. When people look away from me, they forget me. Unless they have that charm," he pointed a massive finger right at Brayden's chest, "in which case you'll remember. It must've been pushed under the pillow while you slept or something." And with that he left Brayden sitting cross legged and wrapped in his warmest fur blanket. _Gods,_ thought Brayden, _that sounds awfully lonely. What kind of friend curses someone like that?_

"It isn't a curse," huffed Muriel under his breath, returning to the hut with an arm full of chopped wood. He laid them down carefully before he straightened and turned. "Everyone I meet thinks it is. But I wanted it, and I'm thankful, for your information." So he hadn't read Brayden's mind after all. He couldn't stop himself.

"Why?"

Muriel rolled his eyes, crossing his arms in front of him and squaring his shoulders.

"I don't like people. I've done things. Bad things. Things I didn't want to do and things I hate myself for doing. So," he gestured at his body noncommittally, "I can get away from it all. I finally get to be alone, and start over. Does that answer all your questions, or are you going to bother me more?"

He looked at Brayden expectantly, like a parent to a misbehaving child. Brayden shook his head, looking between his knees. He hadn't meant to cause trouble or make the man angry, but he had. He whispered an apology, just loud enough to be heard. Muriel looked him up and down, a pitiful little pile of man staring at the floor. Finally, he sighed. 

"Look, I should have known you were gonna ask. It's fine. Don't talk to me about it anymore." With that he headed out the door, rounding the house to visit his chicken neighbors. Calling them his never felt right to him. Three brown eggs were nestled into the straw nests in their coop, which he'd built himself. Plucking up the eggs in a single wide palm, he patted a hen gently on the head and thanked her quietly. Muriel never took the eggs for granted. Once he came back inside, he made a beeline to the fireplace. No time to talk if he was already out of reach, right? Setting the eggs in last night's pile of furs, he loaded in a few logs and got up. He shoved around what few kitchen utensils he owned, looking for his pan. It was then that he heard a pop from the bed, and the fireplace started burning ever so slowly. He whirled around to look at the flames, flames he hadn't lit. Then he whipped to his other side, where Brayden sat, huddled in sheets with his finger pointed out. Magic. Brayden looked up at him apologetically.

"I thought I'd save you some time," he explained, "I know it's not easy to light a fire without magic."

With a grumble, Muriel grabbed the heavy pan, storming over to the fire. He muttered something along the lines of "...could have done it myself..." as he cracked the eggs onto the pan and shoved it onto the grate above the steadily growing fire. 

"My other ankle is fine again," Brayden called across the hut. When Muriel spared him a glance, he was dangling both feet off of the edge of the bed, rolling his good ankle experimentally. He looked up, the two locking eyes, and gave a warm smile. "It looks like I'll be out of your hair in no time!" Muriel froze as he turned back to the eggs. _No,_ he thought, _please don't go. Not yet. Please._ He tried to grunt out that he didn't care, that he was relieved, but all that came was a hum. An almost sad hum. 

Brayden cocked his head at the tone, trying to figure out exactly what it meant. Agreement? Disappointment? Dismissal? He would never figure Muriel out, though he would very much like to. Normally frustratingly vague and antisocial, Muriel instead intrigued Brayden. What made him this way, what shaped this front he put forth? Was he soft and kind underneath that heavy stone wall he kept up? Would he ever even know the answer to that?

"Oh, and about the other one; I'm not that skilled at healing magic, but I could probably hold the bone - or what's left of it - in place while you set it. It would have to heal mostly on its own, but I know enough to nudge it along faster." The popping of Muriel poking at the cooking eggs filled the silence. "And then you can have this ward back, I'll forget you... again... and your life can return to normal." He wet his lips with a quick flick of his tongue before going on. "Listen I," he began, gentle but firmly, "I know you're uncomfortable with me around. I can see it in your face. I know I'm imposing, much as I hate doing it. I just want you to be comfortable and hap-, well, probably more like content, again." Muriel laughing and smiling didn't seem like a realistic outcome when he returned to solitude. Having made his speech, Brayden chewed his bottom lip and looked out the window, searching for some distraction to keep the wetness prickling at his eyes at bay. He didn't  want  to forget Muriel. The man was stoic, frumpy, and borderline rude, but Brayden knew what he saw last night. He saw those dark eyes soften, twice even. Once, possibly, when he had seen Brayden had come to help when he looked sickly. Brayden saw him looking up at him pleadingly, seemingly on the edge of vomiting. Muriel didn't seem used to people rushing to help him. He seemed like the type to refuse, even when it wasn't something he alone could fix. The second was last night, when the apprentice had laced his fingers behind his neck. When he had started hauling himself off the ground, when their eyes met. Even with his back to the light, shadow covering his face, he had broken again. Of this Brayden was sure, not by sight alone, but he'd emitted the slightest magical presence. Protective, benevolent. It was in there somewhere. It had been less than 48 hours of being around each other, but the idea of forgetting Muriel and never seeing him again tugged in Brayden's throat. He felt like his tongue had fallen backwards out of his mouth, like he couldn't speak if he wanted to. He didn't want to lose this, lose these days and lose a friend. 

The bed groaned as Muriel sat next to Brayden, dwarfing him dramatically. He took in a deep breath through pursed lips, exhaling it through his nostrils. This friend thing was scary as hell, but he had to say something.

"You can keep it," he said. "I have plenty more..." His stomach ached, not of hunger but of fear. He felt like someone was shoving him forward, forcing him to face what he needed to say whether he was ready or not.

"I wouldn't hate it if you remembered me." He flushed as he crossed his arms across his chest angrily. "Only because you know Asra, and I might see you again."

"I'd like that," came a small voice beside him. He twisted to see Brayden peering up at him with those big doe eyes. A smile stretched across his face. Muriel couldn't help the way the corner of his mouth followed suit, curling up into a tiny grin. "I'd enjoy seeing you again. If you'd have me."

Have him? Muriel knew he meant have him over, but the idea of having him, holding him close through cold nights... Soft kisses on the back of that fluffy blue head... Those doll-like hands folded in his... and wrapped around his-

_Stop, stop, please,_ he begged in his head. This sweet apprentice wasn't a toy, wasn't an object. He was... Endearing. He was more, something special. He tried to help with every single thing that had happened, without being asked. He'd cooperated. He'd even slept next to a content Inanna. She seemed to like him, staying in bed until not too long ago, when she trotted into the woods to hunt. He hadn't even touched any of Muriel's few personal items, unlike almost everyone else who visited. 

"I guess you can stay until you can walk without a crutch," Muriel decided out loud. He saw the apprentice light up. _So he wants to be around me,_ he thought. _That's... something new._

But then a new thought clawed at his mind, bringing a frown to his face again.  _ What will he think of you when he finds out what you've done? Will he run from the monster you are? Harbored these nights in the cabin of a killer. _

_No,_ he countered, shifting his gaze to his feet. _ Brayden would understand. He listens to me. He isn't scared of me. _

_ Oh no no, he'll see you for what you really are. They cheered for you, don't you remember? They all screamed for you as you butchered people, oh so many people. If you wanted to get out you would have thought of something, if you really, really wanted... _

Suddenly, a cool hand gripped his bicep, shaking him out of his rage. Muriel opened his eyes - he hadn't even noticed that he had squeezed them shut - and looked warily over to the apprentice. 

"Muriel? The eggs are starting to burn..." He reached his hand out to try and wipe away the beginnings of a tear from Muriel's cheek, but before he could, Muriel rocketed up.

He stormed over to the eggs, thankfully using a cloth this time to lift the pan, slamming it down onto his table. 

"Are you okay?" Brayden asked across the room, head tilted with innocent curiosity. "You seemed really upset-" Muriel cut him off harshly, waving his hand around.

"I'm fine. Peachy even. Come get your eggs, you need to get out of bed so I can help you put your ankle back together." Brayden nodded at the order, hopping down onto his good leg. The scowl on Muriel's face faded just a bit, tinged with pink. _He... obeyed me? He really listens to me? Why? Doesn't matter._ "And don't touch me again. This time it's okay, because, uh, of the eggs." They were indeed singed black around the edges, but palatable enough. "I wasn't in the mood to put out a house fire."

To his surprise, he heard laughter, delicate and tinkling. Brayden was sat at a stool across the table, hand over mouth, trying not to laugh.

"Yeah," he snorted, "nothing more annoying than your entire house going up in flames. What a mild inconvenience!" Muriel didn't understand what was so funny, but he couldn't help but commit the sound of that laugh to memory. He shoved over the plate of eggs, two forks laid over it. Brayden picked one up, eyeing the eggs hungrily.

"I only have one clean plate," Muriel explained, leaning over the table and snagging a jiggling bit of egg on his fork. "So, erm, we have to share for lunch." Brayden nodded happily, hardly listening as he shoved egg into his mouth. Muriel looked over his face, cheeks stuffed full of egg, eyes closed as he savored them, chewing thoughtfully. He decided he would commit that face to memory, too. 


	4. Ivy and Moss

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Innana has things to say, suggestions that put off Muriel. But that doesn't make them any less true.

"Is there any chance you could help me bathe before we reset my ankle? Once I wrap it I won't be able to get it wet for a while, and I'd prefer to stink as little as possible."

Brayden was sat on a stump by the edge of the yard, swinging his legs below him. His bad ankle was now an ugly shade of purpley yellow, and still not quite the right shape. Late afternoon sunlight shone through the trees into the clearing. Muriel sighed to himself, an irritated sigh that was pointedly loud enough to hear from the stump. _Seeing him naked again,_ he thought, _sounds... nice. But will you be able to gather any self control? Will you make him uncomfortable? Your body?_

"I suppose," he muttered from where he sat silently going over sign commands with Innana. She was intelligent, and knew all his hand motions, but with Asra gone there wasn't much else to do. The quickly manifesting ghost of that damn Count hadn't been bothering them much, so going goat hunting was just an unnecessary danger. Built as he was, he was still no match against a cursed and angry spirit. "If I carry you to the stream will you be able to do it all yourself?" Much as Muriel wanted to be the one working the washcloth over his body, lathering him up and letting him relax as Muriel did all the work, he wasn't sure if that was on the table.

"I might need you nearby just in case," Brayden thought out loud, a slim finger tapping at his jaw, "but other than that I should be good, I think." Muriel released a breath through his nose. _Good,_ he thought, _I can just turn my back and think about something, anything else_. The delicate scent of the apprentice's clean skin had done something to him, something new. Now the myrrh was joined by another smell. It was on his pillow, his blankets. Something fresh, like the smell of a flowerbed after a long rain. 

Brayden continued kicking his feet, humming an unfamiliar tune as he used his magic to summon a flower from the packed dirt and grass of the yard. Then the flower would wilt, and revive as a different flower, again and again. _That's pretty_ , Muriel thought. _Does he like pretty things?_ His ears got a bit hot. _What does he think of me? I'm a survivalist; I don't really care about that stuff._

But something in him rose, something withered and dusty. He wanted Brayden to have the pretty things he seemed to like. He wanted to be the one to give him those things. This was new, and a bit frightening, putting Muriel on edge. Fear rose in his throat as he absentmindedly tossed a stick for Innana to chase, not even bothering to look at anything but his feet. In place of that newfound warmth came a familiar paranoia. What was Brayden's end goal here? What did he want from Muriel, and goddamnit, why was Muriel obliging? Inanna set the stick back at his feet, sitting and looking up at him sadly.

'What has you worried so, Muri?' Inanna asked with a tiny whine. She was the only one allowed to call him that, as he called her Nana. A compromise, between man and wolf. 'You look so sad, and you smell afraid. Is the goat back?' 

"No," he grumbled quietly to her, making sure Brayden couldn't hear him. "I'm upset because I'm thinking weird things. And I don't know how to make them go away."

'You're in love, aren't you Muri?' Inanna blinked knowingly.

Muriel shot to his feet, face red and eyes filled with rage. "ABSOLUTELY NOT."

"Muriel, are you okay? Do you need anything?" He looked up and saw Brayden half dismounted from his stump, face painted with worry and a hand outstretched.

He hadn't remembered to be quiet, the reaction was too knee-jerk to think properly.

"I'm fine, Inanna just said something stupid," he mumbled, almost as if he wasn't sure whether or not he even wanted the other to hear him.

'Hey! I am not stupid!' yipped Inanna indignantly, nipping his heel gently. 'You have to acknowledge your feelings sooner or later!' Muriel knew that his stubborn housemate wouldn't cut him slack until he did something about it. He stood up properly, out of his slouch, and took a deep, meditative breath.

"Why does it matter if I'm okay or not? It wouldn't be your problem." He tried to come out on the offense, but the gentle probing the question served as did not go unnoticed.

"I care about my friends, silly," chirped Brayden, "and I owe you one anyways for letting me stay with you."

Friends? Were they friends? Was this what having a friend was like? Muriel ran a hand through his hair, scratching the back of his head shakily. His only friends were Inanna, with whom he still had the man-wolf boundary, and Asra, who had been in his life for seventeen years. Neither of them made him feel this way, not by a long shot. But he had definitely said friend.

"Yeah, I guess you do," he breathed out, his words coming from low in his chest, "Owe me one, that is."

"Totally! And I'll do whatever I can to repay you."

What? Had Brayden just said that? Was Muriel really going to say what he was about to?

"...Anything?" Muriel asked suspiciously, cocking a brow. Brayden nodded earnestly, beaming across the yard at Muriel. The apprentice hoisted himself back in place on the stump. One of Muriel's hands was still balled into a fist at his side. He released the tension, not wanting to come off as violent.

"Um... Good. I'm sure I'll find some use for you," he breathed, turning to hide the pink that had taken up residence on his cheeks. Massive hands against the edge of the well, he looked down into the dark recesses. Had that accidentally come off as flirting? He hoped not, he didn't have the will to address that issue yet.

"I have to go into town for more soap if you're gonna take a bath. I'm almost out." Muriel's voice echoed down the well as he called out. "Can you handle yourself while I'm gone, or do I need to send Inanna?" 

Brayden picked up on his deadpan joking instantly this time.

"I dunno, I might just die of loneliness," he returned, "A few hours is simply too much to take!" He draped a hand over his forehead dramatically and pulled his face into one of despair. "Whatever shall I do without my mountain man? Oh, woe is me!" That was as far as he could take the joke before breaking down into a hearty peal of laughter. Muriel rolled his eyes and walked into his hut to grab his cloak from the hook. Inanna butted her way into the door after him.

'Just don't forget what I said,' she said to him, strain in her voice, 'New things happen all the time, don't rule them out.' Muriel let out a groan at the end of his lecture.

"Yeah, yeah, whatever," he said under his breath as he gave Inanna a nudge with his foot out of the doorway. And then he was gone, to be alone with his thoughts completely for a few hours. 

He had called Muriel 'his.'


	5. Repression

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Muriel's in deeper than he thought, and it shows.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Holy shit, I uploaded this to get it out of my notes app. I did NOT expect this much positive feedback! I'm so happy you guys like it, this is the first fanfiction I've put out for others to read. There's so much I've already written that I have to hold back on posting to keep a semi regular schedule. Thank you all for the kudos and comments, they make my day.  
> And I know you want to ask; there is more "smut" in the next chapter... you horny gremlins.

Muriel sat on his kitchen stool, crunching on a handful of sweet peas he'd plucked from the garden. Brayden was still in bed. By the time Muriel had returned from town, it was far too late to go out to the stream safely to bathe. He'd carried the apprentice to bed, where he had curled up clutching his bag of myrrh to his chest. That was how he remained all night, purring out happy little noises in his sleep as he nuzzled the pillow. Muriel found it endearing, and he had in fact sat awake by the bed, watching him all night into the early dawn. When the sun had fully crested the horizon, he'd dipped out to harvest some vegetables from his quaint little garden behind the hut.

"Gods, I really hope you like this," he murmured under his breath, quietly enough so Brayden wouldn't actually wake up. His hand dipped into his satchel, palming around the fairly pricey soaps he'd purchased. He had decided that Brayden would probably like floral scents, so he had stopped by the higher end shops. The streets had been crowded, and Gods did he hate that, but his final haul had seemed satisfactory. The crisp smell of crocuses drifted out of the bag and up into the air. Brayden sniffed a few times in his sleep and started to stir. Muriel hastily closed the drawstring, not wanting to face the reaction to his gifts quite yet. He'd spent more coin on a few pleasurable luxuries than he would on the average grocery run. This was no small thing, even though he needed to present it as such. Brayden stretched his arms up over his head, yawning so hard his jaw almost popped.

"What smells so good? I was just dreaming of a tulip field, and I wake up to something that smells right pretty." He rubbed his eyes with his tiny fists, stretching his legs out and kicking off the blanket.

"The forest has plenty of flowers," Muriel stuttered, looking down shyly. "Or maybe you were just still dreaming. What do you want for breakfast?" He asked, quickly changing the subject.

"Ooh, what do we have?" Brayden perked up.

"Well, I grow most of my own food. So there's vegetables to pick from," explained Muriel. A wave of his rough hand drew Brayden's attention to the pile of produce on the kitchen counter. Sweet peas, squash, carrots, tomatoes... Almost every vegetable Brayden had ever heard of sat on the table, plus a few more.

"What's that one?" he asked, pointing at a blue sort of squash. That was definitely new. 

"Oh, this?" Muriel asked, picking up the squash in his hands and tossing it a few times. "It's a lichette. They only grow in Vesuvia, under very specific conditions." He looked down at it lovingly. "I did some pretty seedy things in order to get my hands on a few bulbs. Not illegal, but not not illegal, I'd say." That pulled a humming giggle from Brayden. "Turns out my backyard has some of the best conditions for them to grow. The magic in the forest doesn't hurt, either." There was a pause.

"You must really be proud of them," said Brayden, "because that's the most I've ever heard you talk." Muriel tensed, almost crushing the lichette in his palm.

"Oh," he grunted, internally chastising himself for opening up.

"Can I try?" Brayden asked, extending his hands out to catch the squash. Muriel obliged, tossing it to him. Brayden looked down at the precious fruit. "What's it like? Can you eat it raw, or should you cook it?" He was coaxing information out of Muriel, something he was now precisely aware of.

"Has flesh like a squash, without seeds. Peel it if you're gonna eat it raw. You can cook it all sorts of ways. It's sweet." He watched Brayden turn the lichette in his palms, inspecting its smooth skin. His eyes were wide with wonder, mouth ever so slightly opened. Does he always look like this at something new, Muriel wondered, Or is this special? 

"Here," he mumbled, extending his hand for the squash. Brayden handed it over obediently, nodding. "It's kinda weird to peel." He took a knife and jabbed it into the top of the fruit, rough and brown from where it had once stuck fast to the vine. Twisting the knife like one would a fork in a plate of spaghetti, there came a small pop. Hidden seams shot down the lichette, revealing where the peel met flesh. He removed the knife and handed it back. Brayden started peeling away the skin like a banana, soft baby-blue flesh shining in the sunlight.

"Oh wow," the apprentice marveled, holding the peeled lichette in his hands and lifting it up to eye level. 

"You gonna eat that, or do I have to?" Muriel asked, impatience heavy in his words. Brayden nodded apologetically, sinking his teeth into the gleaming fruit. He chewed his mouthful thoughtfully, a rivet of juice dripping from his mouth. Without thinking, Muriel reached forward and wiped it away with a finger, sitting back to watch.

"Shweet!" Brayden said gleefully. His mouth was still plenty full of lichette but he went in for another bite. Muriel couldn't help but smirk at the apprentice's endearing energy as he decimated the fruit as if he hadn't eaten in days. The sweet fruity smell of the lichette reminded him of his soaps, and he snapped back to the present.

"We still need to get you cleaned up, remember?" he barked, grabbing the bag, a fresh shirt for Brayden, and a piece of cloth big and soft enough to serve as a towel. "I'll bring the stuff to the stream first and come back for you. No way in hell you're making it that far on one ankle." Brayden laid his fists between his legs and nodded.

"Yeah, I might just break my other ankle just as well," he joked, swinging his left foot forward as he said it. "Fuck it." Muriel grunted out something Brayden couldn't entirely catch and stormed out of the door, making long strides as he jogged off to the water. He had no idea where the stream was, and didn't know how long it would take to get back. Instead he focused on dabbing away the remainder of the juice on his chin. Inanna padded over and licked a stripe up his chin, seemingly pleased at his resulting amusement.

"Inanna, how did I ever survive without your help?" Brayden ran a hand through her fur, giving her a good scratch behind the ear. The massive wolf gave a huff and dipped her head down in a motion reminiscent of a dramatic "you're welcome" bow. "I just can't read him," Brayden admitted as Inanna dropped her body on the floor by his feet. "He acts like he hates me, but sometimes I'm not so sure." Inanna puffed out a noise that was almost a laugh. Out of sight, she rolled her eyes.

'He's an absolute fool,' she said to herself. 'You're special to him, whether he ever says it out loud or not. He's stubborn with himself even more than others.'

Unfortunately, all that Brayden heard was a whine and a sniffle.


	6. A Gritty Type of Love

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> While helping Brayden get washed off, Muriel remembers his time in the market shopping.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had to physically stop myself from titling the chapter "Bathman Begins" oof

"Okay, time to go," Muriel announced, slamming open the door. Brayden perked up, taking his cheeks in his hands.

"Yay! I finally get to feel like a person again!" He thrust his hands up, inviting Muriel to take him in his arms. Muriel glowered at him, but scooped him into his grip nonetheless. _He's so... small,_ thought Muriel _. I could probably hold him in a single arm and not break a sweat._ Brayden immediately noticed the stark contrast, too.

"Do I weigh anything to you?" he asked as they trudged through the forest.

"Eh. Not really," Muriel responded. He resisted the temptation to look at the apprentice looped around his neck. "Maybe how you'd feel lifting a basket of pomegranates."

"That's nothing! I can lift two whole baskets!" Brayden jokingly brought down an arm, flexing his bicep. Muriel snorted, unable to stop the brief smile that flashed across his face. "Okay fine, I can only lift two baskets when they're both empty." He looped his hand back around Muriel's neck, taking just a second to run his fingers against the skin. He could feel the roughness of Muriel's stubble when his palm glided past his jaw. He could also feel the muscle underneath that tensed at his touch. After a second of contemplation, he decided that he'd like to feel how the rest of Muriel's body felt, too. This lit up his cheeks, bringing forth a pale pink. He averted his gaze from the scruffy Adam's apple that bobbed in front of his face, instead choosing to take a look at his ankle. His right leg straightened, revealing a complete mess. He lowered his leg again, deciding that ignorance was indeed bliss. 

"We're here," Muriel grunted, stopping on a large rock overlooking the brook. He knelt down and deposited Brayden next to the pile of toiletries. "Just, uh, let me know if you need any help with anything." He rubbed his neck as he opened up his bag, pulling out an elegant bottle of swirling purple shampoo, and a bright multicolored bar of soap wrapped in paper. The merchant had cut it straight from a giant block, molded to look like a goose, and delicately folded it away. Muriel found this strange and unnecessary, but he was never on this side of town. Maybe that's just what rich people did with their things. Some of the clothing shops he had passed wrapped their purchases in a thin tissue paper, which sometimes even came in colors of their own. The things rich people did, all the waste and needless consumerism... He had never been one for excessive decoration. It was borderline overwhelming. 

That's why he moved through the alleys. Even in the tighter, poorer areas of Vesuvia proper, there was a web of alleyways. No one used them, during the day especially. At night an odd drunk here or there might stumble out into one to get some fresh air. Shopkeeps would move crates of goods out back. Muriel had also seen a couple once, kissing and groping passionately in a rundown alleyway. They were out behind the Rowdy Raven, so he'd supposed it was inevitable. It wasn't a chore to just turn and leave.

One of the differences between the rich and poor areas that no one really noticed was the alleys, actually. In the wealthy parts, they would drape intricate batik fabrics over the alley entrances. They filled the streets with color, rather than seedy gloom. No one used those alleyways, ever, save for aforementioned shopkeeps. Because of the walls of colorful blankets and flowing drapery, some people weren't even aware they existed. 

The urge had hit him after his first purchase, a chunk of sea sponge. It was rough to the touch, with considerable resistance against his squeezing grip, but the merchant had assured him that in water, it softened. Apparently perfect for scrubbing and exfoliating, whatever the hell that meant. After a demonstration in a metal bowl of water, he'd ended up purchasing it. If he didn't like it, he had reasoned, it could be a fun toy for Inanna. Tucking it away into his bag, he had suddenly had a vivid daydream. Brayden, naked, waist deep in the clear water, running it over his whole body. Little bubbles dripping off of his arms, brushed away by the current. So delicate, so sweet... Him turning to Muriel, asking him to join, to scrub his back for him... 

He had to leave, now. He'd ducked into one of the covered alleys, finding it empty as usual, save for a few crates and barrels. After a quick look around, he'd sat down on a crate, pressing his back to one wall and his feet to the other. He couldn't take it, couldn't hold himself back. This would have to do.

He fumbled open his waistband, taking his cock into his hand clumsily and releasing it against his stomach. It was just too much, he was already leaking precum profusely. A dark patch on his pants halfway down his thigh proved that this had been happening for a while. With a low whispered whine, he started stroking himself. The hustle and bustle of the crowd just past the curtain faded away as he closed his eyes, resting his head against the brick.

Brayden, so soft and wet, inviting him into the stream with a cocked finger. Himself, undressing and dipping into the water as Brayden waited patiently, back to him and sponge lifted out. Him moving closer, closer, until his body was flush against the magician's spine. Feeling his breaths, how his body inflated and deflated against his own. How massive his cock looked, pressing into Brayden's back. 

His breaths came labored as his hand squeezed and worked around his erection. He firmly but slowly dragged his hand all the way to the head of his cock, precum beading through his foreskin. Then he, just as slowly, brought his fist down his length, until his little finger was pressed to his balls. He imagined just how good it would feel with another person instead. So deep and intimate...

He pictured himself dropping to his knees behind Brayden, scrubbing his back with the soapy sponge. His other hand mapping out Brayden's entire body, running it along his waist... Then his hips... Then his thighs. Just how soft and smooth his body was, bringing his hand back up, fingers gripping Brayden's ass. The ringing sound of Brayden's moans, bright as bells and sweet as honey.

His left leg had begun vibrating madly, boot grinding against the brick. The adrenaline from being in public mixed with his pulsing nerves all over his body was completely undoing him. It had never felt this good, not in all the years he'd been doing it. His eyelashes fluttered as his eyelids trembled, tears threatening to form in the corners of his eyes.

Oh, how it would feel, Brayden turning to him, pressing their lips together, how sweet he would taste on his tongue. Standing back up, erection brushing Brayden's entire front as he rose. Brayden wrapping those tiny hands around his cock, taking him in his mouth... 

"Gods..." he murmured; he was going to cum soon, and hard. His hips bucked into his hand, desperate and erratic. He was so close. So, so close.

He had cum moments later, biting down on his tongue until he'd drawn blood to stay silent. It had fallen between his spread legs, onto the cobblestone floor of the alley. Runoff water trickled down the road, mingling with his release and thankfully washing it away. He tugged his pants back on, wiped his brow on his cloak, and stepped back out onto the street, quietly merging back into the crowd in search of his other gifts.

"Ooh! Look at this!"

Muriel was snapped back to the present. Brayden held up a flask of pearlescent multicolored body wash, eyes alight, exploring how the sunlight sparkled through. "This is so fancy! Is this what you use?!" He uncorked the bottle and held it to his nose, the scent of daffodils wafting into the air. Muriel turned red.

"Uh... No, I just... erm... I thought you would like it better. My soap is mostly lard, and I use it as shampoo too. This suits you." He turned on his heel and started walking off.

"Wait!" Brayden called out, reaching out a hand. Muriel turned stiffly, and leered down at him. "I just wanted to say thank you. These are spectacular, and couldn't have been cheap. I really appreciate it."

Muriel relaxed slightly. _He likes them? Perfect. Mission was a success._

"I just wanted you to have different soap so you wouldn't use up mine. That's all," he replied lowly. "I'll be over on that root up the hill a bit. I should be able to hear you if you call for me." With that he disappeared into the brush. Brayden looked at the array of nice things laid out on the rocks. He had seen a sponge like that before while walking with Asra. Walking with Asra... through the upper end. He smiled to himself, taking off his oversized shirt. He delicately laid it out beside him, the simple tan color of it standing out on the moss-covered boulder. 

"Big Fucking Shirt," he murmured to himself, "...You have served me well. Blessings."

He turned and began lowering himself into the pleasantly warm waters.


	7. Current Rush

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The bathing scene I've kept you from for so long. Muriel finally lets Brayden begin breaking down his defenses, at the expense of his dignity.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So sorry this has taken to long to upload! I'm going to try and post at least semi-regular updates again! Love you all, hope you enjoy this.

Muriel sat on his root, a massive hardy thing that sprawled out of the ground. He had just dismissed Inanna to go play in the water, maybe catch some fish for their dinner. He had some thinking to do, and he really didn't need her input.

What was different? His emotional state had split definitively into pre and post Brayden. He'd become noticeably more open, generous, and caring. That seemed to have changed with the arrival of the wounded little thing currently splashing around in the river with Inanna. He could hear his tinkling laugh echoing off the trees, along with Inanna's enthusiastic yips and barks. What was so fun? He bathed in that river at least three times a week, and it was nothing special. 

_ I shouldn't look,  _ he thought, _ that's an invasion of privacy. Brayden wouldn't do the same for me, I need to return that respect. _

_ Ah,  _ said a confident voice in his head, _ but you want to so badly, you need to remind yourself of what his body looks like. You could have given him back his clothes, but instead you give him your spare shirts. You told him pants would be uncomfortable to take on and off, what horseshit. He could manage. _

_I suppose I could take just a peek,_ he reasoned, _what if he's hurt?_ _Too hurt to call for me, or even in danger that he doesn't see yet? This isn't selfish._ He chewed on his cheek. _This is for his safety._ So he placed a massive hand on the trunk of the tree he was leaning against and slowly craned his head out.

In the valley, he could just barely make out the sparkling of the sunlit waters below. But he didn't see that familiar blue, no matter how hard he squinted.

_The current,_ he suddenly remembered. _Fuck, he's only got one foot to stand on. How could I be so stupid?_ He flew off of the root, sliding down the hill with the unsteady mulch and fallen leaves. As he emerged into the clearing the brook intersected, he heard it again. That laugh.

"Inanna, oh my gods, you aren't getting any shampooing until you give me that back!" Muriel slowed to a stop, taking time to catch his breath as he looked down into the creek. 

There was Brayden, alive and unharmed, waist deep in the rushing water. He was leant back on what seemed to be a submerged boulder, hair full of purple suds. Inanna was splashing around a few feet downstream, sea sponge firmly clamped between her jaws.

"I'm serious! I won't even give you scratches! Oh, hey Muriel!"

Inanna had seen him first, turning her head and yipping around her "prey." Muriel flinched, this was a mistake, such a big mistake. 

Brayden reached up and waved to him, gesturing for him to come closer. The way the sunlight reflected off the water and onto his skin like glitter made him look mythical. His face was split into a huge smile.

"Come on over! Whatcha waiting for?" Muriel swallowed, averting his eyes respectfully.

"Oh, uh, no, I couldn't see you and got... worried. About the current. I forgot that you only had one leg to stand on. Your footing wouldn't be as steady as mine. Definitely not as steady as Inanna's either." The wolf dug her paws in, striking a dramatic pose, daring anyone or anything to try and dislodge her from her spot.

"Couldn't see me? Oh my, sneaking a peek, were we?" Brayden cocked a brow deviously. Muriel stood up straight, eyes wide.

"N-no, of course not! I wouldn't..." The apprentice's expression stayed the same, smirk dropping into a thin frustrated line. _Ah_ , he thought, _what a smartass._

"Okay, I was checking to see if you were safe, and I didn't see you and got scared. I didn't, uh, see anything, not that I would be able to from there anyways. Stop looking at me like that." He burned a furious shade of red, focusing on the moss beneath his boots. Brayden relaxed, giggling.

"Don't worry, I don't even mind in the first place. You've already seen me naked, remember?"

Oh, did he fucking remember. He balled up his fists tightly, refusing to let the blood flow elsewhere. _Stop it. Cut it out._ He let out a strained "yeah" and swayed awkwardly in his place. _What the hell do I do now?_

"Come on in, the water's fine! There's also minnows over here!" Brayden cheerily offered, waving Muriel over. "I'm not gonna let you weasel your way out of this, you know. I'll even look away if you want, despite it being only fair..." He trailed off, wiggling his brows in mock seduction. 

Muriel stayed still, wringing his hands over his chest. Brayden turned away, raising his hands by his side. "I am looking away."

_Well, if I'm really not getting out of this like he says..._ The thought drifted through him, innocently enough. _Might as well._

"Okay." 

Brayden was staring at a tree, but at Muriel's thunderous voice he had to focus on not whipping around. He heard the man's boots being kicked off, then a sloshing sound. 

"Happy now?"

Brayden turned his body this time, looking at him with disbelief. 

"You can't be serious." The water was only up to low on Muriel's thigh - a thigh that was still in his pants. 

"You bathe with clothes on? Is this a 'Rugged Man of the Wild' thing? Have I missed something here?" 

Muriel flushed pink, rubbing his neck.

"Well..." he started nervously.

'Don't you dare make up some excuse,' Inanna huffed at him from downstream. 'Just get naked.' He snapped around, giving her a look both angry and pleading. 

"Are you fucking kidding me?!" he whisper-yelled through clenched teeth at her. She turned up her snout and looked away.

"She saying something dumb again?" Brayden asked once he finished. He offered a perky grin. "I know you love her anyways."

At another pointed glance from the wolf, he sighed, deciding to tell the truth.

"She wants me to get undressed, but..." He took in another deep breath. "Idontwanttomakeyouuncomfortableorembarrassmyself." 

Brayden chuckled. "Alright, run that by me again?" He clasped his hands behind his back, craning his neck to meet Muriel's stormy green eyes, eyes that were looking anywhere but back at him.

"I... I don't want to make you uncomfortable," he began.

"Which you won't," Brayden interjected quickly.

"Or..." He struggled with this part. The water didn't even reach the tip of his penis, much less cover it. What if his mind got away from him? He really wouldn't be able to hide that.

And genitals aside, his huge muscular frame was covered head to toe in scars. Scars that he would love to forget the stories behind. Scars that might incite that conversation, the conversation he never wanted to have with the innocent sprite standing before him. But he had to start telling Brayden the truth.

"...Or embarrass myself." A soft pause. "I have... I have a lot of scars. All over me. From a time I would really like to forget, a time I really don't want to have to talk about of explain." His head hung, hair obscuring his expression.

"You would see me differently if you knew. You would be scared of me. You would... You would leave. And I don't want you to leave, or think I might hurt you." 

A wet hand touched his stomach. He opened his eyes to see Brayden looking almost straight up at him, touching his abdomen gently.

"Then you don't have to talk." Slender arms reached above the apprentice's head, taking hold of a buckle on one of Muriel's various harnesses. He strained, seeing as eye level was just below Muriel's chest, but he managed to unbuckle it all the same. 

A heavy leather strap fell from the giant's shoulder, buckle making a loud 'plunk' sound as it hit the water. Muriel recoiled, nearly leaping out of the water.

"Whoa whoa whoa," he stammered, "I can do that myself!" From the corner of his eye he saw two yellow eyes give him a clear wink. Brayden hopped back, leaning back on his stone.

"I won't look," the apprentice promised, holding his palms over his eyes patiently.

Inanna stared him down from her spot in the gurgling stream. 

'See?' 

Muriel just scowled her way, begrudgingly stripping from his clothes. Then it was just the three of them in the water, the only other thing being Muriel's heavy iron shackles around his wrists and neck. 

Gods, the way Brayden's body looked, covered in tiny water droplets, hair full of suds... Muriel could take a proper look at him now. He knelt in the water before the apprentice silently, the water finally obscuring his pelvis.

Brayden's hands were still on his eyes, little breaths puffing from his parted lips. Oh, how Muriel wanted to reach over and bring them to his. When he thought of this, something in his heart pulled at him terribly. What he wouldn't do...

"You can open your eyes," Muriel grumbled from a few feet away. Brayden removed his hands, a bit startled to see that the hulking man had moved from the banks.

For a second he caught something new in Muriel's eyes. They were brilliant in the sunlight, the green of the forest just electrifying them. Opened wide, staring up at him with an expression Brayden hadn't seen. Wonder? Longing? Hope? He couldn't quite place it. 

His quick inward hiss of surprise gave way to a fit of giggles, leaning forward to balance himself on Muriel's chest.

"Gods, you scared me for a second there," he chuckled, laughter that turned to stammering once he saw the subtle flash of sadness that washed over Muriel's face. 

"I mean, I didn't know you would be there. You startled me," he corrected, leaning back again. His eyes looked Muriel up and down as quickly as possible, trying to stay respectful. 

He hadn't been lying. Puffy pink scars cut across his chest, his abdomen, his arms, even one on his brow that his hair usually hid. Brayden suspected there were more on his back, hips, and legs, though he couldn't see through the violent rush of the stream. 

The magician decided to take a giant risk. He leaned forward, reaching his hand out towards Muriel's face. The man looked confused, eyes gigantic, until the apprentice's hand met his cheek. Muriel closed his eyes and let out a breath through his nose as a doll-like thumb traced the angular scar on his jaw. The touch was light as a feather.

"I'm still here," Brayden whispered. "You're still the same man who saved me from wolves and went into the scariest, busiest part of town just to get me some soap." He withdrew his hand as Inanna trotted over to the two obediently, sponge still in her mouth. Muriel slowly opened his eyes and took the sponge from her.

"Good," he said under his breath.

"Let me rinse the shampoo out of my hair and put that baby to use," Brayden chirped, turning and dunking his head into the water. Before he could even think, Inanna was by his side with the beautiful glass of rainbow soap. 

Muriel uncorked it, dripping some lazily onto the pale chunk of sea sponge when it hit him like a brick wall. 

In the market. His fantasy. It was coming true, then and there. Brayden's head was still underwater, lilac bubbles washing off down the current. Muriel lowered himself to sit on his heels, ensuring his erection was completely obscured by the water. He held out the sponge when the apprentice resurfaced.

"Ooh, thank you! Just the thing I was gonna need!" Brayden started scrubbing the dirt and grime from his body, revealing the smooth skin underneath.

"This feels amazing, you've got to try!" 

Time for another risk. He reached over, running the sponge along Muriel's collarbone and down his arm. Muriel flushed red.

"I-I can do that myself, too," he muttered, reaching out for the sponge.

"Noooo, I'm not done with it yet!" Brayden laughed, yanking the sponge behind himself, between his body and his rock. "I still need to get my back. Then you can reclaim The Sponge." 

He spoke like it was a precious artifact. A sickening wave of deja-vu hit Muriel. He decided he too would take a risk. A massive hand landed on the apprentice's shoulder, spinning him around roughly.

"You can't get all that by yourself. I'll do it for you." He plucked the now exposed sponge from Brayden's clutches. "It'll just be faster that way."

Brayden's cheeks bloomed into a vibrant pink. 

"Only if I get to do yours," he retaliated over his shoulder cheekily. He heard a deep grumble.

"Fine. But we still need to reset your ankle soon. So make it quick." 

Rainbow suds painted Brayden's back. Muriel could see his shoulder blades, the muscles on his back twitching as he looked around at the forest. He looked so soft, so smooth, his hips gently curving out ever so slightly, leading down, down... 

Muriel shook his head, willing Brayden's ass out of his mind. He was still hard as stone underneath the water.

"Done. You're all clean." 

Brayden turned, smiling.

"I was thinking. If your back isn't somewhere you're, ah, comfortable with, I could wash your hair instead."

Muriel hadn't even thought about that. The parallels between his daydream and real life had distracted him. 

His back was the worst of all, covered in welts from when Lucio had decided he wasn't "vicious enough." The whippings were meant to make him more angry, more violent, but all they had ever succeeded in was pushing him closer to his breaking point. 

He only stayed in the ring for one reason and one reason alone: that fluffy-haired child from the docks, the one who had offered him genuine companionship instead of using him as a brute. Ripping these poor criminals to pieces was the only way he could ensure Asra's safety. 

"I'll take the shampoo," he decided softly. Brayden nodded. 

"I figured you would. And that's perfectly fine." Inanna carefully brought over the shampoo bottle, pressing the glass into Brayden's open hand. She paused, fixing her yellow gaze on Muriel.

'I hope you really heard him. He listens. He remembers.' She blinked slowly and sat in the current.

'In fact, he thinks about you just as much. Tries to read you. Will you ever let him?' The question hung in the air heavily. 

"Alright, get your head over here, now." Brayden had hopped up onto the boulder he had been leaning on. He was submerged just deep enough that one could admire how the sunlight warped and danced across the skin of his thigh. 

Muriel looked up at him, sitting just in front of him, hands extended like purple claws. He couldn't help but chuckle at the sight. Brayden spread his legs shyly, beckoning the giant forward.

"I need you to get a little closer." Muriel's heart jumped to his throat. "I don't wanna knee you in the chest, so step right up, into my salon." He gestured to the open space in between his legs sheepishly. 

Muriel paused, looking down into the water between the two of them. A silver minnow darted past, glinting in the yellow light that streamed through the canopy. Was he gonna take the apprentice up on the offer? So close to each other, lower halves just inches away? 

Don't be silly, of course he was. He murmured a soft "okay" and scooted himself forward. The silt under his knees gave as he moved, the undercurrent taking hold of his thigh and attempting to pull him down. His upper body jerked forth, hands shooting out to grab whatever he could; in this case that thing happened to be Brayden.

Each hand grasped desperately at a thigh, and his face landed right against Brayden's chest. _Oh no._ Instead of the anger he expected, Brayden immediately reached down and pulled him up straight.

"Are you okay? Lost your footing there?" That was when Brayden noticed, too. He gulped, slowly looking from his lap to Muriel's eyes. The man was a hot red, jaw set and such pleading, lonely eyes. 

They screamed "let's pretend that never happened."

Muriel straightened hastily, planting himself firmly in the river bottom. He realized his hands were still curled around Brayden's thighs, and yanked them back. They clasped in front of him as naturally as he could make them, obscuring his modesty. 

Under no circumstances would Brayden see just how hard that had gotten him again. He straightened his back. 

"I'm sorry," he begged. "I'm really really sorry, I didn't mean to do that. I'm sorry..." 

Brayden placed both hands along his jawline, tilting his face back up. He covered his own embarrassment with a broad smile. Really, he just wanted to make sure Muriel wouldn't notice his own, similar reaction. 

Muriel had fallen into his lap, and now he was aroused. That was so incredibly disrespectful. He could never live it down, the last thing he wanted was to make the blushing man at his feet uncomfortable. But... maybe he could compromise.

"That's actually a good idea," Brayden suggested, trying to hide the wavering in his voice. "I'm gonna need you kind of still, and the current is almost pushing me around." He looked up, pretending to think for a moment, anything else but maintaining eye contact.

"I wouldn't want to grab too hard and hurt you on accident," Muriel said lowly, looking down at his hands. He held them just out of the water, as if to prove to Brayden that it just wouldn't do. 

"See?" He pointed at Brayden's leg, where pale red crescents from his nails marked the skin.

"You just grabbed me reflexively, and hard," Brayden admitted. 

"I just need you to lay your hands down. I don't want to get suds in your eyes." His soapy hands curled around the crown of Muriel's head, pulling him up a bit. 

Muriel chewed on his lip and gingerly placed his hands down on each thigh, where the palest bruise had already begun to form. He took a deep breath and closed his eyes when Brayden began work on his tangled mess of black hair.


End file.
